The Life and Times of Kuruchù
by witch cat warg
Summary: The autobiography of Kuruchù as a youthful orc of Dol Guldur. The story behind one of the most powerful orc leaders ever to walk Arda, and her rise to power against terrific odds. Discover the true meaning behind her famous words "Lat Sulmog uruk, vot shakatrog." (If you attack us, some one is going to really regret it) and the significance of her renowned 'Jewel.'CHAPTER 1 REVISED
1. Chapter 1

Forward

Well, as my sister always said "Dithering is the way to die" so I won't dither on telling my story, but I do have a small problem. Most life stories start by telling the reader (a) who their parents are and (b) stories about their early infancy and birth. Unfortunately I don't know any stories about my early childhood, birth, infancy, etc so I will just start with my first memory. Here it is:

I closed my eyes and delved under the straw to cut out the sound of my sisters fighting. Their names were Murlat, the runt of the litter and the most stupid, and Anca, the biggest the strongest and the cruellest. The problem with her is that she is extremely clever and can _plan _her cruelty in a way Murlat can't. For some reason they never let themselves enjoy a simple pleasure like snoozing in a pile of straw, and consequently never let any one else enjoy it either.

"Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrr!" Thunk. Smock. Bang. Squeeeelch! This last part was Murlat being shoved head first in to a food trough by Anca. Murlat grabbed Anca around the neck and dragged her into the pile. The pile teetered and collapsed right on top of me and my lovely bed of straw. As I wobbled to my feet, Murlat swung her fist at Anca who was standing in front of me. Anca dodged the fist, and it smashed into my neck.

That paragraph will hopefully explain my childhood as I do not have time, paper or memories enough to write the whole thing out in full. Particular incidents that I recall in this documentary will be explained in as much detail as I can and incidents that are referred to constantly will be written out in full, or as near full as possible. I should go on to explain that my childhood is very hard to measure. It most certainly did not end when I reached my full height, indeed my sisters insist I am still in my child hood now but I digress. For the sake of this story I am defining my child hood as the time I spent in Dol Gudur. I apologize for untranslatable orcish words that I have used in this text.

Chapter One: Departure

I was riding on a big warg called 106 and I was beginning to think that I had strapped the leg bindings to tight because my feet were feeling a bit numb. The dark leaves of the Gloomy Wood rustled overhead and the steady thudding of the wargs paws striking the muddy forest floor was the only sound to be heard. I was leaving Dol Gudur for good.

Our lord had given the order that a thousand fully equipped riders would go without delay to Mordor. Unfortunately the forest path can only handle so many fully equipped warg riders at a time so we were going in groups of twenty-five. I closed my eyes and inhaled, smelling the dank scent of rotting leaves and wood. I had never been further than the walls of Dol Gudur before and felt nervous.

Anca was just ahead of me (her number is 101), and looking bored, Murlat was just behind me (her number is 99) and I did not even have look at her to tell that she was absolutely bouncing with excitement. It drove me to distraction. I mean we were going to _Mordor_ the greatest fortress in all of Arda: a tower thousands of feet tall and a natural defense of ninety-six mountains with three entrances and its own sea, and all she can think of is eating manflesh. Do not ask how I know she is thinking about manflesh; it is one of the things one knows after growing up with her.

I was extremely tired, as I had not slept the night before out of excitement of the impending journey, and I concentrated on listening to the forest noises to prevent me from falling asleep. I heard the sound of water dripping on to the damp ground and the rustle of leaves in the wind. Then I heard the sharp hiss of something moving very fast through the air. I swiveled my ears and tried to pinpoint the object. I couldn't hear it any more but I felt even more nervous. Then, without the slightest protraction, out of the forest flew a bird. It soared over my head and wailed,

"Ai Ai Aiiiiiiiiiiii!" it was a pretty green-eyed bird with thick black feathers, but if you looked close you saw the sharp beak and curved scimitar-like claws. I reached up and tried to touch it, but the ground opened up and swallowed me whole as the bird soared up towards the sky...

"Kuruchù!" hissed a voice behind me.

I turned to see Murlat scowling at me and a big orc wearing the clothes of a messenger standing holding large bag. Scarlet in the face I stood to attention (or as much attention as you could get sitting on a warg with numb feet and a crooked helmet). He spoke to Anca privately and she hung the bag over her saddle. Then the messenger strode away, back down the path and out of sight.

I stared at the bag and tried to figure out what was in the it. I peered at the bag, and sniffed. I gagged. Elf.

The elf smell was old, and the bag appeared to be a common place old thing. The kind used for carrying food or booty in. I suspected it was the latter. My sister was not important enough to be granted elfflesh, as she was only a squad leader, and the elf-smell was not strong enough for that anyway. More likely that it was some booty owed to a chieftain that she had to pass on. Well the messenger didn't know my sister very well. We were heading to Mordor and the person who had given her the bag had no way tell if she had passed it on or not. The chieftain would probably die still thinking he had been cheated a bag of elven booty. Serves him right for not picking it up, as Anca would say.

My warg halted as Anca called rest. Everyone reached down, unstrapped their legs, and dismounted smoothly. In theory. In life I slid off 106, and as soon as my numb feet hit the earth, I collapsed into a pile of rags and amour.

One thing the old section leaders death taught us was that wargs have feelings and that those feelings can be bruised badly, so I was careful around wargs. I have very vivid memories of him being ripped apart, and I envy his death not at all.

I slung the saddle on to the ground, the weight of it almost making me fall over again. It was a full battle saddle, with six spears, one ax, four knives, a bow and quiver, sword and shield. As can tell it was rather heavy. I missed the light training saddles that we once used.

I put the saddle down and pulled the strips of meet out of my food bag and hunkered down beneath a large tree to eat. It was hard and dry meat that tasted of nothing. I had only been a day on the road, but I already missed the large carcasses, freshly skinned, and full of sweet juices and thick with fat... I shook myself, and forced the dry meat down. A few yards away Anca was eating her meat with a look of disgust on her face. For once I didn't blame her; the meat was the most disgusting thing I had ever eaten, up to that point, including that warg scat that Murlat and I once ate.(This is a story I shall not go into.)

I curled up among the long roots that stretched from the tree I was sheltering under and tried to sleep. I could not. I rolled over, stretched and layed down again. I sat up and had a drink of water, and tried to smooth out my armor. I stared glumly at the sky and wondered how I had fallen asleep on the road, but was now wide awake. This made me think about shaming myself in front of the messenger, and about the bag he had given to Anca. This made me notice the elf-smell wafting in my direction, and that made me glance over at the bag and see that Anca had dumped it beside her saddle and it was unguarded. She had most likely gone to see if anyone had the sense to get some fresh meat before they left.

I closed my eyes firmly and blocked out the sight of the bag. Yet I could not but imagine how shiny elvish booty would be. I have always loved shiny things. I loved shiny armor, shiny swords and most of all shiny booty. I imagined swords with shining white blades and armor with shiny leaves the same color as Anca's eyes like the chieftains collect.

I rose and crept towards the bag, and, shooting a wary look around the camp to make certain everyone was occupied, crouched down beside it. I pulled the bag open, my fingers shaking as I fumbled with the knots tying it shut. I peered inside and saw that all the booty was wrapped in a thick black cloth. I grabbed the top one and unwrapped it; crouching over it like greedy imp over a bone. Inside it was a elvish tunic stained with what looked suspiciously like old blood. (I don't like old blood. It gives you the nasty feeling that the owner might be still alive, and out to get you.) Tucked in the tunic was a jewel encrusted dagger. It caught the light in wonderful ways, and made my knees feel weak. I ripped my eyes away and unwrapped the next rag. It had partially opened due to the bouncy ride and something was else shined among its folds.

I reached down and tugged the glittery thing from the folds of the black cloth. It was a leaf on a shiny chain and I realized it was supposed to go around your neck. I slid it over my head. It was cold and slightly sharp round the edges, and it stank of elf.

"Kuruchù!" called a very familiar voice. I shoved the leaf down my shirt and tried to hide the bag, before adopting an innocent expression and turning to face her.

"What were you doing?" Anca demanded

"N-n-nothing" my voice came out in warbling squeal, something that makes me cringe. She stared at me suspiciously. I prayed that my tunic collar covered the leaf chain.

"Well, go away" she sneered with that annoying, superior tone. "Get your rear on your warg. Break time's over"

I hurried over to my saddle and hung dragged it over to 106, and strapped it to her back. As I climbed onto her back I felt the leaf touch my bare skin. I wondered how I was supposed to get it back in the sack without Anca noticing.

We rode on into the day (Not that that would make a difference in the Fuintaur, and indeed many say that is its only redeeming feature.) and I kept nodding of. I certainly wished that that I had got more sleep earlier but it was to late now, and every one behind me could see if I fell asleep.

I blinked. A bright shaft of light came through the trees, making me wince. I squinted through the blaze, and could just make out the shape of two tall figures.

"Halt!" one of the called. I yanked on the warg's bridle, and she came slowly to a halt. (For those of you young imps that do not know, the wargs before the Fah-Sundaum were trained with such little skill that it often made them more wild than they were to start with. Luckily all this has been changed now, and as we know warg training is on of the most highly skilled jobs one can have.) The larger one stepped forward.

"Twenty Five?" snarled the larger of the two.

"All present." Anca replied. The chieftain nodded.

"Head into camp, and make sure that that the wargs don't wander." he turned to the other one.

"Three more groups left and we can head on." They began to walk away.

"Wait!" Anca cried. The chieftain turned to face her. She held the bag out to him. A greedy smile crossed his face.

"All items present and accounted for?" Anca nodded._ Oh great ones,_ _NO_! As soon as they opened the demmed thing they would notice what was missing. Tinder and Flame! I shuddered remembering how powerful the scent of elf was on the leaf.

I closed my eyes and prayed to High Morgroth and every one else I could think of. _Please let me live... I will kill one hundred men... Two hundred elves... I will do anything..._

_Just let them think that it fell out or something...Why did it have to be a useless bauble, not the dagger I am going to die for? _

I was jolted from my moment of prayer by my warg who snapped:

"Get off my back. Now." I jumped a little a the sound of her voice. Well 'voice' might be stretching it, as they speak in their own tongue, and that sounds pretty much like snarling and yipping. You get to understand it after a while, especially as I spent four months cleaning the stables out after I threw a burning steak into the explosives shed. (I had been toasting it, and I was thinking about the all the new moves I had learned in my swords lesson. I looked down and the entire thing was ablaze, including the stick. I threw it as far as I could, and was just reaching for another steak when I heard the explosion.)

"Ah... yah, get of" I muttered and began to unstrap my leg from the saddle bindings. I could feel her fidgeting as I fumbled my way through the unstrapping, and by the time I was undoing the ties that bound the saddle to her she was practically smoking with impatience. When I was done she snapped at me, and stalked off.

I heaved my saddle to the shelter of a pine tree. I knew I should return the leaf but I had not the faintest idea how to do that. _Slip it back in the bag? Impossible. Leave it here? If they find me out I ought to have something to give back._

I knew I should go get something to eat but Murlat was lounging around near the food barrels. I knew I should...I shook myself. I couldn't do any of these things successfully, so I mind as well get some sleep. I lay down, took off my cloak and folded it underneath my head. _Ahh_, thought I, _the bliss of sleep is a restful one._

I woke up with 106 nosing at me.

"Leaving." she rumbled. I sailed to my feet, and grabbed my helmet. Everyone else was already seated and ready to go.

"Tinder and Flame!" I squeaked "Thank the great masters that you woke me up!" I turned around and tripped over my saddle.


	2. Chapter 2

_**2**_

It was raining. My first night out of the Fuintaur and it was raining. The rain was putting everyone in a bad mood, and it was slowing us down. This was a catastrophe, we were due in Mordor in ten days time. _Ten__ days __time_, it had not really occurred how exhausting travelling at this speed was. I was drained already. The leaf bounced up and down on my chest. I shut my eyes and cursed my ill fate. _Why did I look? Why couldn't I__ have __fallen asleep? _A drop of water ran down my neck, lowering my mood even further.

I hated the rain. It ran into your armor and filled your nose. The ironic thing was that my favorite time is after rain, when everything is clean and fresh.106... sorry _Krimpatat_ was giving me wounded looks every few minuets. It seems wargs hate the rain as much as orcs do. I wondered if any animal in the world liked rain, and if there was such a creature, why didn't the sky go rain on them? I shifted slightly in my saddle, and it made a odd squelching sound. I pulled my hood over my face, and hunched my shoulders to keep the rain of my face. We plodded along through the dark wet night. I knew things were getting desperate when the chieftains called a halt so we could wring out our cloaks. I squeezed as much of the water out of the drowned fabric as I could, and then stumbled back to Krimpatat. My fingers were too cold to do up the legs straps properly , so I just let my feet hang. This, I later discovered was a _big _ mistake. I was bounced and jolted all over the place, and my head felt as if it would fall off. The rain poured down like a endless grey curtain. Whenever I looked up my mouth and nose was filled with water, and it ran in my eyes and blinded me. Up ahead Anca was clutching her cloak around her in a useless attempt to keep her armor dry. It would have been funny if I had not been in exactly the same situation. I winced as I bounced up and down, the saddle chafing against my legs and the leaf cutting in to my chest. I had never been so miserable in all of my life. I clung firmly on to Krimpatat's collar and shut my eyes. _It will end soon,_ I told myself firmly. _It will end... just__ hold __on tight until it the end of the storm. _

The wet brown grass and endless rain rolled passed without the slightest change in scenery. I missed the tall protective tree trunks and the closed in feeling of the Fuintaur. Another nice thing about the Fuintaur, I reflected wistfully, is that the trees grow so thick that only a few drops of water ever manage to find their way to the forest floor. My stomach ached for a bite of fresh ground squirrel, or some bobcat. (this was a delicacy that I had not had for years, as we had eaten them all.) I was startled to discover that I missed the forest. The idea was alien, not to mention startling. All the orcs visiting Dol Gurdur said that is was a miserable place compared to the rest of the world, and I had always assumed that I would think the same. I had been nervous yes, but I had certainly not thought that I would miss my birthplace. Krimpatat slipped and I nearly fell of her. Though, as I reflected while I tried to regain my purchase on Krimpatat's wide back, it would not be hard to prefer an elf cave to this place. I raised a frigid hand to straiten my helmet, because it had gotten cricked when Krimpatat slipped. Yes, I grumped, it wouldn't be hard to prefer this place to anywhere.

Have you ever been out in the rain a long time, and your hands get that stiff frozen feeling? That was what my hands felt like at midnight on the 26th of April, 3018 (at least I think it was, it could have been the 27th ) . This rendered my hands pretty useless at anything, and indeed I was pretty sure that my hands were frozen to Krimpatat's collar. As I tried to lick the life back into them, I wondered why the stories about great heros marching to battle never mentioned the weather. It occurred to me that all the old chieftains that were from the ancient times complained that this new equipment was absolutely useless compared to what it used be; so in the old days warriors probably managed to stay dry and composed whatever the whether.

I manoeuvred my feet out of the leg slots and swung them up so I was lying lengthwise on Krimpatat's back. Completely undignified? Well, I suppose so, but I was past caring about such things.

The morning dawned wet and grey, and the chieftains did not care to stop for a simple thing such as the sun, (The horrid fireball some how managed to pierce the thick rain and cloud cover.) and we carried on as before only this time we all had terrible headaches. I would have just have remained in my old position but the sun provided just enough light for Anca to see me. " Kuruchù!" she screamed. "Y-y-yes?" I replied. My teeth were chattering so much I could hardly get the word out. "W-why..." she scowled and started again _"Why _are you lounging on your warg like that?" "N-not l-lounging" I replied in what I hoped was a proud, defensive voice. She gave me a disgusted look; "Well g-get up". It was a sure sign of how down trodden we all were when not a single orc had it in themselves to laugh at me.

I swung my feet back to the leg holds. I was to exhausted to care when Krimpatat stumbled again, and nearly made me fall of her back. We rode on to midday, When the chieftains decided to give us a brake. By then I could barely think, the combination of the cold, sun and exhaustion rendered me as good as headless. We stumbled from the warg's backs and collapsed on to the soaking ground. I pulled my cloak over my head and tried to ignore the hammering sun. ( the rain had lessened to drizzle and the clouds had parted a little to let the sun slam down on us more fully) I was just dozing off when I realized something. All the other orcs would be feeling like this, and the chieftains counted as other orcs. This meant that they were probably not guarding the sack, and I had a perfect chance to put the leaf back . I considered it. It was extremely risky plan and it would probably get me killed..._Pitiful, you can't even work up the courage__ to __save yourself. _ I scowled at the earthy ground. It wasn't like that I... _Can't even think up a good excuse?__ You're __pitiful, no wonder all the others laugh at you, you can't even save your own skin. . _I rose to my feet shielding my eyes against the sun. I was _not _pitiful. The chieftain's tent was easy to see. For one thing, it was the only tent we had brought with us. I eyed the tent. It had one entrance, but the tent was pinned down at one-foot intervals with large iron wedges. It would be easy to lift one of these and create a space just big enough to slip under. The biggest challenge would be doing this undetected.

I slipped into stealth mode, and started to creep towards the tent. I'm sure I looked like a right old fool; sneaking toward something in full view. I edged behind the tent, and squatted down next to one of the wedges. I heaved at it, but it was stuck fast. I was just looking for something to pry it from the earth with, when, a voice from inside the tent made me freeze. "can't see why we have to go all the bleedin' way to Mordor if there's battle in Fuintaur". The chieftain Anca had delivered the sack to replied: " Well as I've heard were going up to Mordor to help with the Gondor problem, an' the other thousand that didn't come are killing elves back in the old forest." there was murmur of discontent from within the tent. "You mean 1001 to 2000 get to eat elfflesh while we have to make-do with manflesh?" hissed a third more nasal voice. "Aye, that's about the shape of it." Sack-Orc replied. Nasal-Orc and First-Orc (as I had begun to think of them) hissed with anger.

I really should have left then, but the conversation was too intriguing to miss. I had not realized that there was war on in Fuintaur, and I wanted to glean some more information from them. "Ha!" Sack-Orc sneered "We get to be their when the Dark Lord claims his throne; what greater honor would you ask for?" Nasal-Orc hissed "elfflesh to eat, and a cave of my own up in the mountains". The others grunted in agreement. "Aye" Sack-Orc said. "And that's the reward we get for going to Mordor." I shifted on my rear, and my dagger clicked loudly against the iron wedge. I froze, but to late. "What was that noise?" First-Orc snarled "hey! Someone's out side! " I soared to my feet and dashed away, my heart pounding against my ribs like a hammer against a anvil. I slipped on the damp grass and fell flat on my face. I was about to scramble to my feet again when a roar rang over the camp. I froze, atomically curling up in to a ball to protected my stomach from attack. There was another roar, that ended in a yelp. The thudding of paws reached my ears, and I realized it was a warg fight. This was not comforting in the slightest, indeed my mind was full of the stories of orcs being trampled under foot by raging wargs.

I heard the chieftains retreating into the tent. They were not stupid enough to brave a warg fight. As soon as they had disappeared the roaring stopped. I sat up and clambered to my feet, and I hurried to where I had left Krimpatat. She was not there. My head throbbed and I pulled my cloak over my sun dazzled eyes. I heard the sound of paws, and the blanket was pulled of my head. Krimpatat stood over me her tail wagging. "did you like it?" she asked eagerly .

"Huh?" I asked, confused, and she gave me the Look_ . _" I distracted the chieftains so you could get away." She sounded a bit put off. "That was _you _?" I asked. She smirked "Aye it was." I blinked "thank you". Her smirk widened, and then she leaned over to me and lowered her voice "Why were you eavesdropping on the chieftains? What did you hear?" I pressed my lips together, I was facing a dilemma. I Instinctively wanted to not to tell her, but then again she had probably saved my life. I decided to tell her.

"Well," I began "it goes like this..." she listened avidly to my entire story. When I was done she gave me the Look again. "Why in the name of Morgroth do you want to give it back?" she demanded. I blinked at her in confusion, "because they will kill me if I they find out I have it" I replied. Krimpatat let out a sigh of impatience "if they haven't killed you yet they obviously don't know it was you silly" she said. I stared at her in a sort of shock "Oh" I said, and then winced, I hate it when I sound like a imbecile. Krimpatat was about to say something else, but we both froze as the chieftain's voice boomed out over the camp. "Right, Maggots! You've lazied around enough."

The other orcs slithered out from under cloaks and saddles they covered their eyes and cursed the sunlight in very colorful language, that if I repeated here would overstep the rating I have put on this story. I strapped the saddle on Krimpatat's back (I probably spent to long on the leg straps, but I was determined to get it right this time.)As we got lined up I realized that I had made a friend. This was strangely comforting, and it was with a calmer mind that I considered the battles to come...

(Note: That concludes chapter two.I apologize for the gloomy start of this chapter, but I am afraid that was how it was. Now according to sight rules I must say these words: I do not own Lord of the Rings. This is a strange custom yet I shall obeyed by it, it is very true; after all, the Lord of the Ring used to own me. A thank you to Miss Witch C. Warg for posting this, even if her three-week-long absence from the internet halted the posting considerably, she has been very good about me using her site. Thank you to Burned Cat for Following, and BorysBorys for reviewing)


End file.
